Fog
by levamentum
Summary: With Oz missing throughout the morning, Gilbert was utterly shocked to find him the way he did. [Post-Torture. Dark themes. Contains mild descriptions of gore. Mild traces of Ozbert if you squint or can be interpreted as other. ]
1. Act I: Found

Ebony eyebrows scrunch tightly together in frustration, a curse nearly dripping from the noirette's lips along with a sense of dread only growing by the moment. An almost eery silence filled the empty room –Oz's room – save an angry grumble emitted from none other than Gilbert. Across the room, lie a bouquet of roses – black as ink and heavily contrasting to the pale, ivory-toned wood of the nightstand and holding a dangerously ominous presence in the room - as if acting like an ill omen.

Earlier in the morning, it had been quiet – far too quiet but nonetheless, a normal morning. Everyone had slept a little longer than usual due to a trip running late the night prior. For this reason, Gilbert had allowed Oz to sleep a little bit extra without disturbance. Though, as breakfast drew near, the male couldn't help but grow a bit concerned. Everyone else was already awake excluding the blond, who was nowhere to be found. Usually, Oz was one of the first people to wake and he rarely ever overslept.

Gilbert had made his way to Oz's room to check on the boy – after all, it couldn't hurt to be safe. As a courtesy, he knocked first, becoming slightly troubled over the lack of response. After numerous knocks and multiple calls of the teen's name without a stir, Gilbert let himself in, opened the door slowly and warily peeked inside. No warmth greeted him; instead, a vacant room.

It was then when wandering eyes caught sight of the vibrant black flowers that he now approached with unease. Vincent. Who else would pull something of this caliber? A shaky breath escaped quivering lips as dark locks cascaded over eyes scrunched tightly shut. A note containing an address - one Gilbert knew very well and could travel to within a little over half an hour if he made haste - along with a small key. The address to Vincent's secondary residence and a simple silver key that shined under the light as the man toyed with it in his fingers. _So this is what Vincent would come to_... Gilbert mused bitterly with a nearly silent huff.

Both items were hastily slipped into the male's coat pocket before he proceeded to rush out of the room. Gilbert was nearly out of breath by the time he had reached outside the mansion, panting lightly and movements jittery. For some reason, he couldn't seem to calm his nerves nor the unrelenting feeling of foreboding. He would really need a cigarette after the whole ordeal was through. After briefing Break on the situation and quickly instructing him on what to do should he not return within an hour, the golden-eyed man slipped into the front of the carriage without hesitation. Since the trip was a rather unplanned one, he couldn't schedule for a driver and hence, would have to drive the carriage himself. Although not the fastest method of travel, taking the carriage would be necessary when he rode back with Oz traveling with him.

Oz. His Master. His closest friend. His most precious person. His everything. He would never forgive it if Vincent had done anything to him.

In a short time, he would simply retrieve the boy, bring him home, and likely make him a late breakfast - a simple feat of an almost ordinary day. But why? Why couldn't he shake the bad feeling the ordeal brought him? The strange inexplicable fear that filled him and the tight sinking feeling in his chest.

The uneasiness stayed with him the entire bumpy ride in the carriage.

* * *

It was numerous long minutes until the treading of hooves and rolling of the carriage finally came to a halt. The entire area looked peaceful to Gilbert but at the same time, it also brought him more unease. The simple serenity of the area only seemed to remind him what was missing - his own light. Gilbert didn't take long to take in the familiar surroundings before promptly treading toward the entrance. The door wouldn't budge at his tug, making a small clicking sound in refusal. Just as he was about to try the key, in one sudden movement, the door flew wide open and exposed a certain blond that he dreaded seeing the most.

"Oh, Brother. Hello. Did you perhaps come to visit me?" A soft smile lay dormant on Vincent's lips along with a dreadfully coy tone that was greeted only with a scowl from his brother.

"Cut the crap, Vincent! Where is he?" Gilbert's voice came out raised in an angry rush, a glare not so subtly fixated at the younger male with a look of unadulterated and unamused loathing.

"I told you not involve my master!" Gilbert continued with an even louder voice, harshly grasping the blond's coat collar and tugging slightly. Vincent didn't seem the least bit fazed - in fact, his next action, a lighthearted chuckle, made Gilbert nearly snap at that very moment.

"Its nice to see that you're happy to see me... Ah, your Master...? Down the hall in the door to the far right. Your key should be able to let you in. You should hurry then, Brother. I believe he wanted to see you." Vincent's tone was light with poorly hidden amusement throughout the entire reply, further managing to agitate the raven-haired male. The gloved hand on the Vincent's coat only tightened in response, pulling away rather roughly and enough to make the younger of the two briefly lose his footing. The pained expression on Gilbert's face only intensified as he continued looking at his brother.

"Vince, you better not have done anything to him." He warned bitterly. Gilbert's voice was significantly quieter than his previous exclamations, sounding much more strangled and strained with small traces of fear etched into it. "Even if its you, I'll never forgive it!" The noirette added harshly. The conviction in his words was palpable as he pushed past Vincent without looking back. Though, he didn't miss the joyful grin that had formed on his brother's lips before having turned.

"Well, unfortunately, you caught me at a rather bad time so I'm sorry to say that now I have to take my leave. It was pleasant seeing you, Gil." Vincent called out and smiled warmly as the Gilbert walked, causing the noirette to wince at the use of the familiar nickname but not even bother to turn back.

"Say hello to the Hatter for me! Perhaps we can continue the visit later." Vincent continued happily with a wave - though, he knew it went to deaf ears. He chuckled as he slipped out of the house, already reveling for the moment when Gilbert would return for him.

By the time Vincent had shut the door behind him and slipped outside the house, Gilbert had finally arrived at the locked door that perfectly fit the description. Standing motionlessly in front of the door, he strained to listen for any sounds - any sounds to confirm his master's presence and safety in the room. However, Gilbert could hear not so much as a stir from behind the door. In fact, that complete and utter silence filled the entire house - just like Oz's room in the morning but even more unnerving at present. One could hear the ticks of the grandfather clock across the residence without even straining. It all unsettled him how the room seemed to lack any form of presence or life. Vincent wouldn't have lied... He had absolutely no doubt in that.

With a shaky breath and an unsteady hand, the noirette reached into his pocket to hold the key, briefly balancing it between his fingers before nervously slipping it into the keyhole and after a couple of twists, turned it.

* * *

Yelling. Yelling increasing in volume.

The sound of an obvious argument erupting some distance away shook the blond out of his thoughtful trance. A small, limp body lay motionless, side pressed against the cool ground and a shallow and unsteady breathing being emitted from the source. Oz hadn't moved from that position for at least half an hour -perhaps even more or perhaps less; the boy didn't care for the details. He hadn't even bothered to move from his place on the ground - instead curling up into a ball and harshly pressing his knees to his forehead, as though to keep himself grounded and whole. A hushed sigh escaped his lips; emerald eyes stared blankly at the wall with a daze so intent yet so empty and unfocused. His back faced the door and had stayed stationary the entire time. There really was no use to move around since the door still remained locked - not that he thought that he could make it far in his condition nor would attempt escape even if it had been unlocked.

His body still ached - terribly so - and moving only managed to re-agitate his cuts and even reopen some. Since his legs and knees brushed close to each other, the slice in his inner thigh stung especially so with the contact of skin. His various wounds caused Oz to cry out or wince at any form of movement so the teen avoided doing so at all costs. Even breathing kept the relentless pain of his chest wounds alive - every expansion of his diaphragm and rise of his chest causing the ache to never dull. Though, by this point, the boy grew quite accustomed to the pain - welcomed it even. Oz wanted nothing more that to simply be left alone to allow him to bask in the pain of his own existence and to revel in it. He deserved every ounce of it after all, he mused. A small, soundless strangled chuckle racked through his body and caused old pains to reawaken. Was it a bitter chuckle or a desperate sob? At this point, it proved to be quite a difficult feat to distinguish the two.

Though, the teen quickly collected himself , leaving his body still and silent once again as the tremors racking through his body stopped as abruptly as they came. He would not cry out again. Breaking down would indirectly be giving Vincent what he wants. Oz would have to compose himself, to act unaffected in front of his friends and even act as though it never happened. In all truth, he'd already let out enough bottled emotions anyway. Tears unwillingly trickled, slow and bitter, the moment that Vincent had left the room and small breathless sobs had been released. It was then when all the guilt and pain and weakness finally crashed together at one point and Oz wasn't able to prevent his own weakness from coming through. It was in those short moments when he let himself go and that existence and time meant nothing to him. The boy simply shut his eyes tightly and allowed himself to pretend that he did not exist. After a short while, the tears stopped flowing and eventually, the loudest sound that would be emitted from the boy was a measly whimper or sniff - until that ceased as well.

He hardly paid any attention to the yelling outside; the blond couldn't make out a word either way. Though, as raised voices turned to yells and once faint voices became audible, Oz was able to identify a very familiar voice. The familiar voice that usually filled his heart with ease now caused him a pool of dread. Gil. Gil was here. The blond's throat suddenly felt dry as he sucked in a deep breath and mentally tried to will him away. Oz didn't want Gilbert to see him like this. In fact, that had been what he had been dreading the most. A fresh new wave of guilt returned as strong and overbearing as prior and left the teen curl up into himself tighter in fear.

Oz didn't want to see the expressions Gilbert would make - his unwavering honey-colored orbs filled with pain. He had no doubt that Gilbert would pin the blame on himself somehow. The sound of the door beginning to unlock caused a near silent whimper to escape him and for him to press his knees into his head tighter, eyes becoming more bitter and regretful by every passing click of the key's movement. The turning of the doorknob was the sound that caused the boy to shut his eyes with dread and hope for it to end.

The atmosphere of the room was tense as the door creaked open and slow, hesitant footsteps carefully entered the room - almost apprehensively so. For a moment, the older male simply stared fixated at the blond's lithe and inert body on the floor.

Oz's clothing did little to hide his injuries. The front of his shirt was ripped and completely unbuttoned, poorly concealing his abused chest. His shorts and undergarments were shredded, shorts still left unbuttoned, and loosely covering his lower body. After the whole ordeal was over, the teen had barely managed to pull his shorts up to cover his nude lower body - a feat achieved hardly sufficiently enough due to the difficulty that the wrist restraints posed.

It sickened Oz to have his body so exposed and know that Gilbert could see it all, maybe even piece together what had gone on. The boy froze up under that examining gaze.

That short moment of silent staring ended with the panicked call of the younger's name. Gilbert quickly rushed to Oz's side and promptly crouched beside him, on his knees at the same level as the smaller body.

Surely, he must have been a sight to see: clothes torn, wrists bound, dried crimson smeared on pale skin and still raw at some parts, curled up and pale as snow.

"Oz." The muted desperation in the call was enough to cause the boy to want to curl up tighter and disappear. The pain in his companion's voice had caused another ache of his own to encroach in his chest in a way that no wound could. Oz wanted so badly to reassure his companion and desired so strongly to show him that he was okay. Though, all words died at his lips and the boy's throat was suddenly too dry to speak. His eyes fluttered open and he could only watch the male with a blank stare, at a loss for words.

Oz felt Gilbert begin to untie the restraint on his wrists - gazing at the teen's face with a fearfulness and all the while, begging him to be okay. Begging Oz to talk to him, to move, to speak. To do anything.

"Oz, please be okay. Oz, please, please just be okay. Oz. Oz."

The panicked cries of his name made the blond's chest tighten even more in protest. Despite his loosening bonds, he only felt more trapped and bound. The feeling of a wandering finger drift to his pulse to feel for his frantic heartbeat made the teen furrow his brows in guilt. Finally, he was able to vocalize a choked gasp of his companion's name, albeit weak but better than nothing.

"Gil."

The older male both sighed in utter relief of the call of his name and fear at the weak sound of it. The sound was so unlike Oz. Gilbert wouldn't have believed that the very sound could have possibly originated from his companion had he not been so close to the boy that he could feel his frantic breathing. Emerald eyes stared blankly but reminded the noirette more of green fog than their usual gem-like radiance. It was so unlike Oz. His lost expression scared the older to no end and had him practically gritting his teeth.

"Yes. Its okay, Oz. You're safe. You're going to be okay." Gilbert assured and promised with such a sincere face that the blond didn't want him to leave him.

When he felt his wrist restraints finally coming loose, Oz lifted his hands to stretch his sore and chafed wrists before landing the hands on Gilbert's coat. Pale fingers dug into the dark fabric and clung tightly and Oz didn't want to ever let go. Quivering digits kept a firm grasp on the fabric before warm, larger fingers reached to pry one of his own hands away, taking it into his and interlocking their fingers - warming the cold appendages and rubbing soothing circles into the back of its surface.

"Don't worry. I'm fine, Gil." Oz finally continued, a slight stutter present but his voice beginning to steady and regain its usual strength, almost convincingly so.

A small whimper left the blond at the feel of being raised in the male's arms. The older male had accidentally brushed against one of his injuries in the process of beginning to lift him off the ground. Gilbert apologized profusely and began mentally making a list of all visible wounds. Small scratches loitered across his torso, dried blood abundant, and swelling present in some cuts - a potential sign that it was beginning to get infected. The most prominent of the visible wounds was an 'X' shaped slash over his contractor seal, a cut spanning from his hip to midriff, and another residing across his mid stomach. The rest were more superficial but could still become problematic if they were to become infected. He lifted his eyes from Oz's torso, not meeting the boy's averted eyes.

Gilbert shrugged off his coat and gently wrapped it around the teen's body.

_No. You're obviously not_, Gilbert thought to himself.

Oz relaxed a bit at the feeling of the coat draping over him and making him feel less exposed. The boy bit his lip to prevent another wince from escaping as Gilbert lifted him from the floor. The noirette carried him bridal style, cradling the teen to his chest softly and being especially cautious to make sure that he wasn't pressing on any of the boy's wounds. Gilbert was also careful to not rock the teen's body too much as he walked. He slipped out of the door and walked down the hall, heading in the direction of another door.

For once, Oz didn't find a need to protest. At this point, he was far too exhausted both physically and mentally to even consider such so instead attempted to relax. The blond shifted his hold onto Gilbert's sleeve and tugged, successfully drawing his companion's attention.

"I'm sorry." Oz muttered with a hoarse voice, adverting his eyes from the noirette's intense gaze.

"Its okay, Oz. You have nothing to be sorry for. Everything is going to be okay." Gilbert promised, a soft smile of relief forming. Oz's breathing steadied into a slow rhythm as he leaned against Gilbert's chest and basked in the warmth. The blond couldn't help but take comfort from and believe in those words. It would be okay for now; it would take time but Oz knew he would make it through.

"You're going to be okay, Oz. I promise." A small smile formed on the blond's lips before he turned back to nuzzle his face back into the older male's chest. He felt selfishly guilty to be deriving such a comfort but he supposed he'd have to worry about that when his body healed. When he healed. He knew Gil would be with him every step of the way - even if he didn't deserve that luxury. He knew it'd all be okay.

"Thank you, Gil."

Gilbert's heart melted at the combination of the small smile and weak words. He frowned at how sad the boy sounded and frowned at Oz's general condition. For Vincent to do this to Oz - to reduce his bright and shining young companion to something so small and weak. It disgusted him and he truly was scared to learn about the full extent of the the wounds his brother imprinted on Oz. Gilbert held the teen firmly yet gently closer to his chest, fearful to lose him again.

"Its okay, Oz. You don't need to thank me for anything." Gilbert remarked calmly, his hand wandering to brush a couple loose strands of silky, golden hair comfortingly. He continued to repeat the action, stroking the boy's hair affectionately with feather light touches and eventually watching Oz's eyes flutter shut and expression fully calm. Gilbert tried not to stir the boy's relaxed position as he softly pried open the door with his foot. After a couple more steps, the noirette ceased walking and softly set the teen into the bed.

Oz sat up and leaned into the pillows on the headboards, reaching to adjust them in a more comfortable layout. He looked up at his companion questioningly as he noticed the male beginning to distance from him and the bed. Gilbert paused where he stood when you met the teen's gaze.

"I'll be right back. I'm just going to look for supplies to treat your wounds." He stated simply. Oz nodded and watched the older male disappear into the adjoining bathroom. After a short wait, Gilbert reappeared and rejoined the blond at the edge of the bed.

"I found some basic supplies. Though, you'll need to come so we can clean the wounds with water properly." He explained, catching Oz's nod and arms inching toward the boy to help him stand.

"Its alright. I can walk." The blond assured. He kicked his legs off the side of the bed and stood, grimacing when his thighs brushed and his wound was once again agitated.

Gilbert caught the teen's small pained expression but otherwise said nothing. He gave the boy a long assessing look before finally nodding and beginning to lead. Oz followed the taller male through the door where he was ushered to sit atop the toilet seat. He promptly sat down and watched the older male rummage through various first aid supplies and move aside towels. After organizing and arranging the supplies, Gilbert approached the teen once again, crouching down to his level and glancing to meet his eyes.

Gilbert reached to lightly graze the hanging cloth of the boys unbuttoned shirt.

"May I?" He questioned, eying and still fingering the sullied material of Oz's no longer white collar shirt. The teen nodded, sliding the garment off himself and placing it on the counter along with Gilbert's coat in a pile.

Oz's bare chest looked far worse under the revealing light. The well lit room gave a view of his wounds unobstructed by shadows and highlighted the heavy contrast between his skin and the dark crimson staining it.

Gilbert ran a towel under warm water, dampening it sufficiently before raising the cloth to the boy's skin. The older male kept the pressure feather-light as he gently cleaned the cuts, keeping his eyes on the younger to watch for any signs of discomfort. As water began to wash away excess blood, the initial wounds began to become visible and Gilbert couldn't help but sigh in relief. No longer blanketed under a layer of blood, the source injuries were clearly revealed, were no thicker than an inch thick each, and didn't look nearly as bad as the start. All of the cuts had stopped bleeding and none appeared to be deep. The cuts were still long, however, and would require attention. After finishing, Gilbert patted the excess water dry with another towel. All the while, Oz stayed perfectly still and tried not to fidget at the stinging feeling of water moistening the wounds.

After finishing drying the blond's skin, the noirette applied an ointment bandaged the wounds carefully in gauze, making sure not to make it too tight. As Gilbert bandaged the teen's cut on his mid torso, he suddenly caught sight of something quite disturbing as he glanced down.

Without the cover of the teen's sleeve, the older male's attention was led to his hand, more particularly a finger on his left hand. Golden eyes widened in shock and a renewed horror at the tip of the boy's finger saturated in dried blood, beginning to scab over in some parts and nail ripped cleanly from the nail bed.

Oz frowned at having his wrist lifted in by Gilbert's hand and watched him closely examine it with a fixated look. Tightly knit brows and grit teeth reflected absolute horror and disgust in the noirette, who cradled the teen's wrist in his hand, before finally regaining his composure. Gilbert knew he would have to put personal feelings aside so he could properly take care of Oz.

"Don't worry. That's a quick heal. I almost forgot it was there." The blond tried to reassure with chuckle. The last statement was a blatant lie but the teen didn't find the truth necessary to state.

"Hey, Gil!" Oz raised his voice slightly, trying to draw the attention of his unresponsive servant.

At that, Gilbert reluctantly met the teen's concerned forest-green eyes and was slowly shaken out of his reverie. A frown was etched on the older's face as he reached to lightly stroke Oz's cheek as he brushed strands of hair aside and all the while, regretted not being able to get to the boy sooner and prevent this altogether. Oz watched him curiously with a solemn expression of his own before the male abruptly pulled back.

"Sorry." Gilbert mumbled in a defeated tone, reaching to turn the water faucet to begin running water as he spoke. Oz said nothing in response, trying to prevent an apology from escaping his own lips.

"This may hurt."

The blond nodded in response before placing his raw finger under the running water, clearing it of extra blood and finding it to still be bleeding. It was bandaged and covered in ointment in no time. Oz was about to stand up before being stopped by the raven.

"Is there anything else?"

"Nope." Oz lied smoothly. His thigh wound would be a bit awkward to treat and the boy simply wanted to leave at this point.

"You sure? Is your leg okay? You've been walking a little oddly." Gilbert stated with concern.

The blond huffed slightly with a small chuckle. _Of course, he couldn't put it passed Gil,_ Oz mused. Since Gilbert had already noticed, there would be no point in hiding it.

"There is a minor scrape on my thigh." Oz informed.

"Well, no matter how minor, it could still become problematic if infected." Gilbert argued.

"Fine" Oz fake whined playfully, amusement lacing his voice and sounding slightly more like his usual self. It relieved Gilbert a bit but could also tell that it was taking more effort than usual.

The older easily cleaned and bandaged the younger's thigh - after awkwardly having to request the teen take his shorts off. It was silent as Oz stood and re-buttoned his shorts until Gilbert finally spoke.

"Oz, did he do anything else to you?" He spoke softly with a slight fear present in his voice.

"No, don't worry. You treated them all."

"Did he say anything to you?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary." Oz replied cautiously in a casual tone.

"Why don't I believe you?" Gilbert questioned in a soft, pained voice - giving the teen an intense and searching look. As much as the noirette didn't want to know the full extent of truth, he couldn't shake the bad feeling he had about the event.

After a long pause, the blond finally gave a resigned sigh, looking thoroughly exhausted.

"Can we talk about this later?" Oz requested in an emotionless tone, eyes half shut in exhaustion.

Gilbert nodded, apologizing before beginning to lead the way outside to the carriage.

It was a long, silent ride back to the mansion. With Gilbert controlling the carriage in the front, the two didn't speak once throughout the entire  
ride. Oz simply rested his head on the windowsill and tried to relax. Occasionally, he would play with his bandages to try to keep his mind from  
wandering. The noirette was similarly in his own brooding the entire ride as well.

When they finally did arrive, the two didn't speak and simply entered the mansion wordlessly. After a quick explanation to Break, Sharon, and Alice, Gilbert led Oz to his room and no one protested. He made the blond a late breakfast/lunch which  
the teen forced down for Gilbert's sake more than his own; Oz didn't have much of an appetite at this point.

Oz didn't broach the topic of the prior question once throughout the afternoon and Gilbert didn't have the heart to ask it himself. With the way  
the blond behaved so sluggishly, the noirette couldn't bring himself to force the boy to talk about it.

They spent the rest of the day together in Oz's room. At the teen's request, Gilbert stayed the entire time. As selfish and pathetic as it was, Oz knew very well that he couldn't handle being left alone with his thoughts for a while. Though, Gilbert didn't have any complaints, since he knew very well that he couldn't handle leaving the boy alone for a while.

It sickened Gilbert to see the after effects that evening: to see Oz flinch when someone brushed against his injuries. To see Oz refuse to speak about his disappearance at dinner time and pretend that it never happened. To hear Oz whimper in his sleep as he was most definitely plagued by nightmares. To hear Oz ask him not to leave in a voice so desperately trying to be filled with nonchalance.

Gilbert never left the the blond throughout it all. He stayed the entire time, seeing to the proper healing of the boy's injuries and also making sure that he was never alone. Even when the younger stopped requesting his presence, the noirette stayed and the boy didn't give any form of complaint. Gilbert knew very well that what Oz would say was only a tough front but they both still pretended that it wasn't anyway. He always remained close just in case.

As long as Oz needed him, the raven would never leave.

It proved to be a long night for both the raven and the boy.

Small hands would claw at the bed sheets as though they were imprisoning him as the teen continuously shifted in his slumber. The noirette highly doubted the sleep was satisfactory. He realized early on it the night that there was nothing that he could do to help.

Gilbert couldn't even to think to sleep, instead too fixated on the restless lump in the covers that rolled and erratically shook in his sleep. Occasionally, the boy's blanket would slip off but would swiftly be replaced by the older male. Gilbert could only make out a faint outline of the boy in the unlit room. Though, all the movements he made were evident if not from the visible moving of the figure but also the soft creaks of the mattress and the rustling of sheets. The silhouette wouldn't stay in one place for too long, almost as though it would suffocate in the darkness if it didn't make its presence known. Gilbert couldn't tear his eyes away, feeling just as trapped and hopeless as how Oz probably felt in whatever nightmare he was in the middle of.  
It was when a small whimper was emitted from the pillows that the man lost all hope of sleep, feeling much too sick to even consider such.

Disgust and horror grew to remorse over the long night.  
Remorse turned to frustration and frustration converted to more anger and hurt.  
Anger and hurt eventually became loathing, guilty and vengeful.

Though, as much as Gilbert ached for vengeance and for the wounded boy he watched that night, he still would not leave him even for a little.

Not when Oz needed him most.

The boy still hadn't opened up since nor had he spoken about the incident once. He would pretend to be unaffected. Every fake smile and  
laugh sent a painful pang in Gilbert. Though, the noirette would swallow his personal feelings for as long as needed for Oz's sake.

Gilbert would stay as long as he needed - as long as the boy was reluctant to be alone, as long as he healed, and as long as the nightmares plagued him. Until the boy would finally tell him fully what happened.

Only when the boy would settle, heal, and open up again - when his green eyes didn't look pained and when all his smiles ceased being fake, would Gilbert even consider leaving him alone.

Then and only then, would Gilbert find and confront Vincent.

The noirette winded up falling asleep much later into the night, settling into a restless bout of sleep of his own.

* * *

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:

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* * *

[A/N: This was initially intended to be a one-shot but at the really wonderful suggestion of LovelyDemon, I've decided to make this a multi-chaptered fic. For those who have seen the story from the kink meme that this is a sequel to, please disregard it because this will go on from an original plot now.]


	2. Act II: Time

_In the dawn of a new day, the sun won't always shine at first._

* * *

It was the protruding sunlight that woke the pair nearly simultaneously the next morning. In their preoccupation the prior night, neither of them had remembered to draw the curtains before they slept, thus resulting in quite the uncomfortable awakening. A short groan could be heard from across the room along with the shuffling of bed sheets. An irritant blond head buried itself in the pillows, turning to face away from the window, while Gilbert rose from his place on the couch to shut the curtains with sluggish movements and an annoyed groan. Two synchronized sighs of relief were released in mutual exhaustion, both males not having had the luxury of quality rest. Gilbert's eyes fluttered shut as he walked back to the couch, already in need of resting his sore eyes. With a plop, he sank back into the warm couch, blankets and pillows feeling more inviting than he could ever recall during the day. Heaving a loud sigh, the noirette found a comfortable position rather quickly as his eyes shut instantly. Gilbert nearly fell back into the dark and comforting embrace of sleep once more before a small voice had him instantly wide awake.

"Good morning, Gil." The exhaustion in the boy's voice was just as apparent as his own. As Gilbert had assumed, the boy obviously hadn't received anything remotely close to quality rest.

"Good morning, Oz. It's still early; you can go back to sleep if you want."

Oz stayed still in his bed, briefly weighing his options, before finally rising from the bed. He received a questioning look from the older male.

"Well, I'm pretty wide awake now so I think I'm going to start the day early." Oz explained with a lax and unconvincing sleepy voice. "You should get some rest though, Gil. You look tired."

The boy's suggestion only served to convince the male to do otherwise, causing him to sit up on the couch. His urge to sleep was all the more dead with Oz's every word.

"Are you feeling okay?"

"Yes, I'm okay. I'm actually feeling really well rested right now." Oz answered happily with an airy, contented sigh. It was a lie hidden in plain sight that was completely evident in the dark shadows under his eyes but it was only hidden by the cascading darkness in the room. The older male quickly extinguished the lie's cover when he promptly turned on the lamp adjacent to the couch.

The light in the room coupled with the dark under the boy's eyes highlighted the very sleeplessness of those soft green orbs flawlessly. A solemn expression plastered itself on Gilbert's face as he examined the boy.

"It's alright, Gil. Don't worry. You really should finish getting some rest. With the way you look now, I'm almost tempted to order you to."

"I can say the same about you..." A defeated sigh followed. _Why did the boy have to be so hell-bent on his facade?_ "I still think you should rest more... But if you're going to wake up, can you at least let me re-bandage your wounds first?"

"Only if you promise to get some rest afterwards." The ultimatum was issued with a small smirk greeted by his companion's strained frown.

"Oz..." He sighed, going silent before a long chuckle startled him.

"Geez, Gil, you're acting like I just issued the death sentence. I'll only be sitting in here reading. No one's awake yet, remember?"

Oz regretted the analogy instantly when the noitette's frown only deepened. They winded up exchanging a few more words before Gilbert agreed and the two set out to the adjoining bathroom. He helped the teen unravel the bandages before leaving to allow him to take a quick bath before he would return to help him re-wrap the wounds. A call of Gilbert's name once the boy finished were all it took for the man to return.

Chilled air nipped at the damp skin of a bare chest marred with various shades of purples and reds. Raised pink lines decorated the boy's skin in an asymmetric, dashed pattern of sadistic affliction -a horrific canvas that made Gilbert want to shut his eyes and simply will it to fade. With the blond seated on the toilet seat once more, it was all in plain view to the both the younger seated in front of a mirror and the older standing above him. To Gilbert's delight, only few injuries had swelled up again or re-opened and all showed signs of healing. A delicate cloth yielded by a gentle hand met the milky smooth skin in the tenderest of brushes, cleansing the skin of irregularities and spots of blood. Gilbert made short work of cleaning the teen's wounds and only had to ask him to lift his arms as he carefully wrapped fresh bandaging around the boy's chest and, afterwards, thigh. In the undisguised light, faint dark, purple, and blackened spots had formed in random intervals upon the expanse of the boy's arms and torso, implying a far from gentle treatment. The bruises and cuts littering the blond's formerly unblemished skin marred preciously pale, untouched glory that should have gave an image of pureness and perfection.

The skin should have stayed unmarked and it sickened the noirette more than anything to see the flesh resembling to his own so very much. Similar injuries marred his own flesh in comparable ways, some from lost and distant causes while others from common injuries. That contrast used to comfort the older male somewhat - to know that the boy didn't have to face the physical horrors and pains of the world as well as the emotional - but now the lack of that contrast made the man tremble in disgust. This wasn't what the world should be like.

That wrong haunted Gilbert to the point where any subconscious urge to sleep was wiped clean from his mind and body. The noirette fastened the bandages as snugly and cautiously as the night prior around the soft flesh. The lithe body didn't waver the entire time and only watched his reflection in disgust, eyes only languidly following the man's hand as he watched it make careful circles between his arms that followed the circumference of his torso. When Gilbert finished, the boy thanked him and began dressing instantly, watching the man politely turn away and exit the small room.

Finally alone, Oz released a long sigh and glanced on the floor, allowing his bangs to cascade over his face. He knew well that the solitude wouldn't last long but he still couldn't help but take comfort from it slightly. Being free from the searching eyes that watched his body with fear and only made the teen feel far worse about everything helped the boy think a bit easier. The pang of guilt with every glance became far too much for him in the first few minutes. As much as he enjoyed Gilbert's company, he now breathed easier.

Dark spots under his eyes that mirrored his own appeared prominently in his reflection as though to mock him of his own blatant wrongs and lies. Truth of the matter was that the moment the boy woke up, he knew he wouldn't be able to handle sleep again if it meant risking having another nightmare. As much as the boy yearned for the dark and comforting embrace of peaceful subconsciousness, he knew it would not come. It felt as if the moment he slept ushered him first into a shallow peacefulness before the entire thing distorted back to a harsh reality and truth. Vincent's words certainly didn't echo lucidly, as dreams are said to, nor was Oz hazy about what he remembered in the morning. Oz could never forget the words - they were his truth after all, as smooth and clear as they were ragged and harsh.

Unable to cope with his reflection and thoughts any longer, Oz swiftly dressed himself, throwing on his basic attire and dark coat for extra measure. For some reason, covering himself more seemed to bring the teen more security, as though adding another layer of clothing could hide the raw layer of his soul. With the buttons fastened and the familiar warmth radiating around him, he almost did feel normal and wholesome - though, more so a pseudo, self-convinced, empty product of pretend. Finally having had enough, Oz simply slid out of the washroom, shutting the door behind him and forming a mellow smile to greet his companion.

The teen was greeted by a silver tray of a pair of mugs seated on a table - one filled with a hearty brew of black tea, judging by the scent, while the other was obviously filled to the brink in a bitter blend of coffee. Oz's suspicions were quickly confirmed when he neared them and as the two distinct scents mingled to his perception. The guilty party responsible stood a couple feet away laying on the sofa, lanky figure spread out across the length and arms outstretched behind his back.

"Thanks, Gil. Though, I can't help but wonder just how you plan to sleep with that massive cup of caffeine. I don't suppose you made it for me." The blond's tone was sly but reflected an actual, sincere gratitude in the wakes of his teasing. He chuckled heartily and seated himself on the ledge of the arm of the sofa, balancing himself precariously while reaching to balance a tea cup in his hand.

"You promised~" Oz scolded with a slight pout, a vibrant and even laugh following. However, in all truth, he was slightly grateful for the turn of events for he'd quickly recalled the dangers of being left alone with his own thoughts.

"I did. I'd promised to 'get some rest' and I did. While you took a bath, I rested my head and made some coffee and tea. It was pretty relaxing. Plus, the stupid rabbit just woke up so she'll be demanding breakfast soon so it wouldn't be worth going back to sleep anyway."

The teen chuckled at Gilbert's light retort with a smile. "You cheated," Oz stated as a matter of fact with an artful grin. "Good job, Gil, I've taught you well. I guess you're right then."

Gilbert sat up in the couch in response, adjusting himself to sit against the feathery cushions. Oz promptly joined him on the sofa, hopping off the cushioned ledge with the tea in hand before seating himself as the older lifted his own cup to drink. The blond let out a hum as he elegantly lowered his dainty cup between a sip before returning it back to his smooth lips for another. The two said nothing as they sipped in collective peace, allowing the sound of birds chirping and a light breeze rustling leaves outside to be appreciated.

Though, the comfortable silence was about as fake as the both of them - only a pretense for unanswered questions and mutual tension. One male tried so desperately not to allow his thoughts to wander while the other didn't even try to restrain his pent up emotions and pain. It was the older that finally caused a ripple in that facade first.

"You alright?"

"Feeling much better. The injuries don't hurt anymore, either." A chuckle and another blatant lie blew out of him quite effortlessly. Truthfully, his entire skin ached and the bruises made him sensitive to touch. Oz had barely managed to restrain the winces and grimaces that threatened to spill from his lips as Gilbert was cleaning the wounds. But that need not be mentioned to the man. It was quiet again for a lingering moment.

"You don't look too well."

"..."

Gilbert's mumble rang in the air and the boy took a sip of tea to deliberate and think.

"Well, it is healing. It's not going to look normal for a while." Oz smiled softly at the older male, eyes narrowing slightly in a gentle gaze. "But it is healing really well thanks to you and I'm happy about that so you don't need to worry about it."

The two tenderest of gazes met, one of golden concern and the other of emerald reassurance. The older couldn't help but be comforted by the very placidity of that gaze and the very smile that soothed his heart. It saddened Gilbert how believable it was. The man was ripped from his brooding when he felt a gentle warmth lightly hover over his hand, placing the soothing weight with enough pressure to be reassuring but with enough softness to be tender. Gilbert looked up to see his hand blanketed by Oz's smaller hand, milky skin on the unscathed skin of the back of the boy's hand looking delicate under the dim light. He internally noted that it was the boy's uninjured hand.

"See?" A soft voice in his ear and the weight of a familiar blond head on his shoulder left Gilbert selfishly comforted - selfish being what the man believed it to be. The boy was obviously suffering - obviously conflicted and brooding alone - and the man was almost allowing himself to fall for the very facade. Sunny, plumose strands could be felt on Gilbert's shoulder through the thin nightshirt along with the boy's steady and warm breath.

"You're just overreacting." The blond continued with an upbeat undertone tone to his voice laced with the soft reassurance.

A comforting silence enveloped the two who simply sat brushed against the other in a peaceful sharing of warmth. There was nothing awkward about the simple contact. It reassured that they were both still there - that they were both still alive and safe and well. For the brief moments, the two just allowed themselves to enjoy the simple comfort in their solitude. There were horrors to face outside the room but for the time being, it was only them. Both their breaths calmed into a much more languid interval as the two eased against the other. A larger, bare hand eventually landed to run elegant, long digits through fluffy strands of pale-gold silk repetitively, stroking the blond's bangs away from his face and repeating each time when it would fall back - which was inevitable due to his head leaning on his shoulder. The younger boy flinched at first in response, lightly and briefly, before quickly easing into the familiar gesture, eyes fluttering shut and facial features no longer contorted or strained. That small shakiness didn't go unnoticed to the noirette but he allowed the gesture to go on for a little longer. _Just a little longer_, the two both yearned.

In what felt like the several hours of the night that they didn't derive quality rest from, the two now leaned lazily, muscles unclenched, eyes half shut, and bodies pressed comfortingly. It ended with Gilbert releasing a deep, exhausted sigh and followed it with words.

"Oz, what really happened?"

The words broke the comfortable silence with renewed tension. Even though they still leaned against each other, the two were stressed once more. A mirrored sigh was emitted from Oz consequently.

"You're really not going to let this go, are you? Ever the worrier, you are~" His tone was lighthearted as he spoke and he chuckled afterwards, body relaxing once again as he leaned deeper into the man's warm shoulder.

"I have every reason to be worried and you know it."

The blond chuckled in response. "You still worry too much. And you already know exactly what happened."

"You haven't told me anything. I'm not going to force you to tell me everything now... Though, I just hope that you trust me enough to tell me this on your own. I won't force you but I just need to know that you're okay."

"Well, there wasn't anything else to it other than what you already know." Oz countered with narrowed eyes and a stoic expression becoming ever harder to retain. The guilt was worse now than it had been when the noirette had bandaged his wounds and the genuine concern hit him just as strong as the day prior when Gilbert had first found him. It ached. "There's nothing to tell."

"Why don't I believe you?"

The question was worded the exact same way as the unanswered one of the day prior and it evoked a similar response from the blond. An exhausted expression mirroring the one from the day before reappeared on Oz's face, this time much worse, and made Gilbert instantly regret asking again. The noirette could feel the boy tense against his shoulder and a new wave of guilt struck him. Though, Oz's expression flickered back to a smile as quickly as it came but it still didn't go unnoticed by Gilbert. Oz remained mute.

"Oz... Whatever he told you isn't true. I don't know what he said to you but I do know that he was doing it just to upset you. It isn't true. Please don't let it bother you, Oz."

"Don't worry, I know that. Thank you." Oz assured quickly. That may have been the biggest lie the boy told in the day - or at least, he believed so in his bitter thoughts. _Gilbert didn't know how wrong he really was_.

Gilbert gave the boy a keen and searching look, before nodding.

"You just got too worried. You had nothing to worry about from the start." _Because I'm not worth worrying about. Because I'm not worth it. Because I'm nothing_. His smile softened at the very truth of the words and his thoughts.

Before Gilbert could counter, a rather loud and hard knock on the door instantly caused both males to straighten and focus.

"Oi, Oz! Have you seen Seaweed Head?" Oz instantly brightened at the sound of the girl's voice, as her antics never ceased to amuse him. Gilbert stiffened at the nickname and the situation was suddenly humorous and bordering something slightly short of an explosion.

Alice barged in of her own accord, without waiting for a cue to enter - not that Oz minded. Gilbert, on the other hand, was twitching with irritation. Her amethyst eyes widened briefly at the sight of the older male in question before she grumbled in slight annoyance.

"Hey, Raven! What are you doing in Oz's room? I was looking all over for you." Her voice was surprisingly calm and civil, and any exasperation prior had already faded and replaced with insistent curiosity.

"Good morning, Alice." Oz called out cheerfully with a curt wave.

"Good morning, Oz. Hey, Raven!"

"What do you want?"

Alice paused briefly before beginning to gush. "Well, I want you and Oz to take me to Auvergne. Sharon told me about a festival and I really want to go. She said there's a carnival and she said she couldn't take me so told me to ask you." The girl practically said it all in one breath, not stopping once as she spoke.

"Auvergne? Isn't that an island? We'd need to hurry up then and leave early if we're going to catch a boat ride." Oz stated not so objectively with a tone laced in amusement, watching the brunette brighten at his words.

"See, even Oz wants to go." The girl argued haughtily.

Gilbert's eyes departed from the girl to glance at Oz questioningly, looking for a sign. He kept Oz's gaze the entire time he spoke.

"I don't think that'd be the best idea now..." He trailed off while glancing at Oz. "Plus, it is short notice..."

"Ah, come on, Gil. It sounds fun." Oz countered cheekily, giving Gilbert an encouraging look.

"Are you sure, Oz? ... Do you really think you're up for it?" The second question came out in a softer and more hushed than the first question, spoken practically under Gilbert's breath. He was solemn in both his voice and facial expression as he gave the boy an inquiring look in which Oz responded to by nodding reassuringly and excitedly.

"Of course. It actually sounds really fun and a nice change of pace."

The girl was grinning wide at this point. "Well, then its settled. Come on and get ready, Raven. I can't wait to try one of those giant meat legs the clown promised were there." The girl gushed and Gilbert and Oz couldn't help but both be amused at her tendencies. Of course there had to be meat involved... Interestingly enough, it also sounded like Break wanted to get them out of the house as well.

After one more uncertain look at the blond, Gilbert finally agreed. Perhaps it would be good for Oz to have a fun day out. They decided on skipping breakfast and to simply grab a snack on the way out so that they could get there early and enjoy the day to its fullest. Plus, it would be a long ride by carriage, even excluding the boat ride they would have to take off shore to the island. They agreed to meet at the carriage within half an hour - though, they'd leave sooner if they all finished earlier. The sooner, the better - as the saying goes.

Alice gushed to Oz until she left the room to prepare for the day and tell Sharon the good news, leaving the two males alone again. Gilbert gave Oz another once over followed by a lingering look of assessment.

"Are you sure, Oz? You can still cancel if you aren't up to it."

"Nah, I feel fine and that'd be killing the fun."

"Alright. But if anything hurts, please let me know. We can go home whenever you want." He stated with certainty. Oz responded with a short nod before lifting his arms over his head to stretch with a quiet hum.

"Alrighty, sounds good," the teen began before trailing off and pausing. "Hmm, I wonder if there're any cakes already made..." Oz pondered mostly to himself.

"There is. We should pick some up before we go." The blond perked up in response, smirking slightly.

"Wow. I guess Sharon and Break seriously seem to want to get rid of us for the day," Oz pondered out loud nonchalantly, releasing a soft sigh of amusement. "I wouldn't be surprised to find the cakes prepackaged for us."

"Maybe... Though, I think they're doing it because they're worried about you."

"Maybe." The blond chuckled.

"Hmm... Are you ready to head to the carriage?" Gilbert inquired, voice soft and emotionless and sounding detached, as though he were deep in thought or perhaps concentrating on something really hard.

"Yes, I'm ready. Ready when you are."

With that, the two began walking to the entrance of the estate in a peaceful silence, now both in deep thought. The two met Alice at the door and the three winded up each eating a quick pastry before they left. The brunette wasn't particularly pleased that it wasn't meat but she didn't complain very much to speed up the process of leaving. After three finished plates and three down-placed forks left inert, the three winded up doing just that and set out to walking toward the carriage.

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_Perhaps a day out would do the boy good._

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_[Note: Auvergne is an actual city in France. (Since Sablier and Reveille are both French) However, the part about it being an island is fictional and the Auvergne in my story will not have anything to do with the real city._

_A/N: This story was initially intended to be a one-shot kink meme fill but at the really wonderful suggestion of LovelyDemon, I've decided to continue this as a multi-chaptered fic. For those who have seen the story from the kink meme that this is a sequel to, please disregard it because this will go on from a more original plot now. __I'm glad I was able to get this chapter done before I go on vacation. On that note, it may be a while until I update due to the fact that I'm going on vacation and I don't know how much writing I'll be able to do and I'm going to be really busy. By the time I get back, school is going to be starting so I'm going to get considerably busy once again and won't have half the time I do now. (Plus, I have dug my own grave in AP courses. *sobs*) __Anyhow, the story should speed up after this. It was a slow chapter but it will certainly set the stage for what's to come... I'll leave it at that. Also, the story will contain even darker themes from this chapter forth as you can probably assume. _

_Thank you for your support_.]


	3. Act III: Lithium

The walk to the carriage was short and quite uneventfully silent. The raven was thankful for that silence, for the peaceful stroll in the cold air did wonders for his fatigue and easily allowed him to drift off into thought. A cool breeze lingered in the air, dancing between blond, black, and brunette strands and cooling the bodies still warm from being indoors for so long. Chilly air nipped at their faces and hair and the very humidity of it could be felt all around them - sticking to their bodies, and dew-covered dampness of the grass rustling below their feet. That cool air also mingled in their breaths as they exhaled, painting small puffs of feathery pale fog that held an opacity high enough to contrast with the invisible air each time it passed their lips.

The quiet seemed to draw on when they entered the carriage, which Gilbert delighted to, since being stuck in a carriage for any period of time with the brunette's obnoxiousness would be truly miserable at this point. However, Alice's excitement had luckily eased to a fairly muted bubbling that she released by speaking to Oz throughout the ride - leaving the two engrossed in a conversation about what types of foods would be present at the fair. Gilbert listened curiously at first but eventually allowed his mind and eyes to wander, eyes drifting to the window and mind to a land of nothings. He found himself dozing off slightly - body beginning to hunch and the lack of sleep finally beginning to catch up to him in the warm cabin with a full blown drowsiness beginning to settle. The carriage ride certainly was going to be long and the noirette couldn't help but ponder the prospect of sleep in his listless musings, as he felt his eyes begin to flutter and tense body begin to gradually ease against the threshold of the window. It was becoming infinitely harder to resist, Gilbert was beginning to realize, for in his drowsiness, the carriage had slowly silenced. His eyes briefly flickered to Oz, who sat against the side of the carriage wall across the bench staring out the window fixedly, as though in deep thought, before flickering back to his own window. The boy's shoulders were slack in an almost exhausted way.

Gilbert's first impulse was to question the teen whether he was okay or not but he pursed his lips quickly and silenced the idea as soon as it came, for that was all he seemed to do and it wasn't helping in the slightest. It would always receive the same response anyway and Gilbert truthfully couldn't bear the small strain in the expression when he asked, as well as the fact that the teen wouldn't budge in his resolve to keep it that way. Ebony brows furrowed in thought and discomfort, no longer settled in the tranquility of near sleep. It was frustrating - so damn terribly frustrating - that there truly was nothing that he could do - no, nothing the blond would let him do - and it killed him inside for that in an irritating and utterly helpless way. He felt thoroughly and repulsively low, even lower than he usually did - for in this situation he was useless, so completely useless, and he couldn't even pretend that it wasn't that way.

"Gilbert..."

The young man straightened swiftly and quite rigidly at the pronunciation of his full name, stated in a soft voice raised in volume. Gilbert blinked twice as he registered that the teen had disappeared from across the bench, the place his eyes had been so very fixated to in the previous moment. A small weight planted onto the crown of his head finally registered as a hand - an extended hand of the very blond that disappeared from across the bench - nested lightly into his hair. It ruffled the curly hair reassuringly at noticing he caught the male's attention, gazing at him with concern. The extended arm connected to the thin torso of the blond, whose head hovered at the eye level of the older within a meter away where Oz kneeled in front of the bench.

"Gil... Are you alright?" Oz questioned, waving a hand in front of the noir's face and ruffing the male's hair again with brows furrowed in concern. Gilbert didn't even notice that his face had contorted into a strained grimace moments prior. Nor did he notice that the younger had called his name several times. Nor did the noirette catch it when Oz eventually stood up to crouch in front of the male. He met the teen's eyes with an apologetic look.

"Oh, sorry, Oz!" The older apologized sheepishly with a bit of a dazed expression. "I'm fine. I guess I started dozing off."

"You are tired." Oz muttered in the utmost of highest certainty and muted smugness, causing the older male to frown. The teen smirked teasingly but his gaze somehow retained a soft solemnness despite this.

The male heaved a breathy sigh in response.

"I think we all are..." He stated nonchalantly with another defeated sigh, also taking notice that the younger girl had descended into a tranquil fall to a silent, temporary slumber. Her shut eyes were oddly peaceful along with the tiny rises and falls of her chest that certainly did explain the silence. Oz only chuckled in response, smiling as he straightened up from his crouched position and rose slowly to stand.

"I guess you're right. Wow, first Alice and now you too. You really should sleep."

The older deliberated for a moment as the teen chuckled before slowly nodding, an involuntary yawn passing his lips almost as though to further worsen his situation.

"I suppose you're probably right... I guess now is as good as a time as any." Gilbert mumbled slowly, sighing once more defeated and shrugging. The teen nodded in affirmation, giving Gilbert another smug look but this time it held a much greater softness to it - holding a much more tranquil and sympathetic gentle quality to it.

"You could probably get at least an hour nap if you sleep now. I actually think I might join you two. At least it'll make the time pass quicker. Plus, the carriage is pretty dead anyway with you two sleeping like babies." He joked with a grin, walking and once again seating himself on the end of the bench. The older male's eyes followed him before briefly and unintentionally wavering to his own window, almost beginning to take the teen's advice.

"That's a good idea. You need the sleep just as much as we do."

"Maybe so, but at least I'm not dozing off." Oz's voice now held a far from well hidden playfulness to it as he smirked lazily at the older with narrowed eyes. Gilbert smiled feebly at the younger's antics, lips curving at the edges of his frown and distorting its resolve - causing it to waver upward and the man to exhale quietly into an indifferent ease.

A low, playful grumble of a "hmm" was the only response the teen received before a comfortable silence befell the carriage - albeit a very short one.

It was suddenly the teen's turn to stifle a laugh of his own at the sound of a certain raven's squawk.

With a bump of the carriage, the younger girl's head jolted and landed on Gilbert's shoulder, the sleeping brunette's body lax against the older's with her face limply pressed against his arm. The noirette was about as rigid as a board when he felt Alice yawn into his shoulder but then practically turned into stone - and he stiffened even more considerably and quite nearly choked - when the girl groaned uncomfortably and nuzzled her face into his shoulder with another grumpy yawn. His eyelids, rimmed in dark, thick strands of lashes fine and threadlike like embroidery, bared golden orbs wide at the weight on his shoulder before he looked down at the girl slowly - almost as though she were some sort of dangerous specimen - before his eyes began narrowing gradually in a faltering, gradually easing curiosity but overall still very obviously uncomfortable and tense. With that, the blond finally burst into laughter, shoulders shaking and cheeks raised as a hearty, quite airy, and spontaneous chuckle escaped him with an expression looking so momentarily carefree.

"Gil, you should see your face!"

The noriette frowned at the boy's words, the corner of his lips tightening and distorting into a downward, indented curve, slightly vexed before he glanced up to see the boy's face; he eased. Oz's eyes were scrunched lightly, cheeks raised and face broken out into a large grin unparalleled by any other - combined with a minuscule natural pinkish flush to his cheeks. His cheerful laugh rang in the air harmoniously in the moving carriage and sounded so perfectly soft and happy. His body curled forward, curling inwardly closer to his own chest, almost as though trying to prevent tears from streaming down his face if he laughed any harder.

He suddenly held a large appreciation for the rabbit falling asleep on him and he couldn't help but admire the results with a sort of sappiness of an expression. It was the first time since before the day prior that the blond had truly laughed - a true and wholehearted laugh that left him breathless and flushed with its wake. It gave the older male hope that the teen still had it in him to release something that wasn't fake and that he wasn't beyond hope. Oz's laughter slowed to soft breaths once more, traces of the smile still prominently ghosting his lips that the raven could only appreciate the genuineness of - so unlike his other phony, forced grins. The noirette's own expression soon mirrored the teen's with a matching placid smile.

"You really made me laugh hard there... It's a good thing I didn't wake Alice." Oz chuckled once more, only releasing a fragment of the former humor that left him in the burst as he glanced at the girl fondly with a smile. "I wonder what has her so tired." The teen mused out loud offhandedly. He glanced up curiously when he heard a short hum get emitted from the older, before Gilbert began:

"I heard from Break that she waited outside your room and fell asleep there... She was worried about you." The noirette informed in a mutter, slightly hesitant in whether it was something the teen should know. He watched Oz's expression drop vaguely and then soften as well and it almost made him regret telling him. The teen glanced down onto her with a gentle smile gracing his lips sadly.

"Oh, I see... No wonder she's so tired. I really owe her an apology when she wakes up, then... I really must have worried her..." Oz mumbled quietly, glancing at her sadly with a distant gaze - watching the peaceful rise and fall of her chest and tiny movement of her hair. The teen then perked up marginally and quite abruptly, fallen expression brightening and leaving no trace of ever having existing. Too abrupt to be believable, Gilbert knew, but couldn't do anything about.

"I'll definitely have to make it up to her today." He muttered calmly with a voice laced with a slightly downbeat undertone.

"You don't need to feel guilty."

"I know, I know~" The teen cooed, promptly yawning afterwards. "Well, I think I'll take your advice with the sleeping. It's going to be a long ride. Oh, and Gil - stop worrying; I can see it all over your face."

"Alright..."

The blond smiled and lazily shut his eyes, shifting his momentum to press his head on the side of window, breathing a pale, foggy cloud onto the cool, reflective surface. The smile was idle and Gilbert took it in briefly before following suit and mirroring the action on his own window, eyes resting lazily as well and staring out at the fleeting greenery and trees in the distance.

"Sleep well." A goofy, half-asleep slur of a deep voice sounded in the silent carriage, calmly disrupting it in a peaceful way.

"You too." A clownish murmur of the younger returned from the opposite end of the bench in response along with a sleepy sigh.

They each leaned on their respective windows to fall into a peaceful slumber easily, hardly deterred by the natural light.

It was with a jolt that the noirette was roused from his peaceful cradle of dark sub-consciousness. Thick lashes first scrunched multiple times before blinking and slowly adjusting to the brightness of the carriage, opening his eyes and slowly registering that the cabin had come to a halt and that the jolt must have been the change in momentum. His gaze wandered around the cabin and absorbed it all at once, curiously like an oversaturated sponge - not truly taking it in but more so sweeping his eyes over it emptily in his slow disorientation. A couple seconds late, Gilbert registered that Oz and Alice were still very much sound asleep, unmoving and flopped over, leaning awkwardly like logs. Being a light sleeper himself, he supposed it was natural for him to wake up easily but even by his standards, he couldn't believe how soundly he slept for as long as he did. He and Oz were both so restless that it was an easy and remarkable feat that they truly slept soundly - Oz actually included, his body obviously too exhausted for more nightmares or sleep disturbances. It pleased the older to see the boy sleep so deeply - see the boy's face so completely uncontorted and body rise and fall slack and relaxed, drooping heavily like the girl beside him - and he almost didn't have the heart to wake them. He truly could have just sat back down with the others and simply slept in the isolated carriage for the rest of the day and the prospect truly was tempting; though, they did come with an intended destination in mind and either way, he knew sleeping in a carriage probably wasn't the safest or most logical thing to do.

With that thought and seeing the driver open the door for them from the edge of his vision, he gently reached to rest a hand on each of their shoulders to rouse the two - shaking the slumping bodies lightly and whispering coaxes of encouragements. He raised his voice a touch but even combined with his touches, the two hardly stirred. Gilbert decided to focus on each one at a time so gently reached to take hold of Oz's arms, knowing that the brunette would be a much harder case and would best be saved for last.

"Oz, we're here. We're here, Oz, so you'll need to get up now." Gil repeated a couple of times, keeping his voice mild and soothing as he reached to gently take hold of the blond's shoulders as he repeated. Oz's expression faltered, brows and eye lids wrinkling subtly - as though a small bug had landed on his face and he was still clueless of what it was, sort of endearing in a silly way. With a quite encouraging and goofy scrunch of the teen's face, the noir knew he'd begun succeeding in his actions so persisted.

"Sorry about that but you have to get up..." He muttered with a smaller voice, feeling guilt from ripping the teen from his much yearned for rest. Oz muttered quietly in response, an incoherent, soft jumble of words that the man couldn't quite catch. The teen repeated his prior mumble and continued scrunching his eyes and Gilbert could only watch in bewilderment and continue straining his ears to try to hear the blond's jumbled word fragments. The older brought his head closer to Oz's edgily, curiously sidling closer to listen.

"What?"

The mumble surely repeated and began edging towards a playful, disgruntled sleepiness, but still not any more coherent than they were before. With eyes no longer scrunched but still shut, Oz yawned deep, soft, tired, and likely still half asleep. At first Gilbert may have believed the sounds to be subconscious grumbles or protest, but now, repeated a fourth time once again in that mellow voice, the raven lost all doubt of that being wrong. He made sure to lean in promptly and careful, face edging closer to the blond to listen properly, worried that the boy may have been in pain or having issues. His breath cast on Oz's neck as he leaned closer, bringing his ear closer to the boy's cheek to listen for any sounds that mouth could make the next time yet still managing a reproachful distance.

"What was that, Oz?" Gilbert spoke gently. With that, blond eye lashes fluttered -droopy and half open - and emptily gazed at the face above him with an unblinking, hazy concentration; the older froze and couldn't even think to move away until after a delayed five seconds as Oz's eyes adjusted, hues blinking long and deliberate against the bright sunlight as he adjusted.

Emerald eyes then widened and the disheveled blond head jolted backwards, hitting the back of the cushioned carriage seat in a hasty and uncomfortable way, almost desperate. A shaky gasp of an inhale and a shocked exhale heaved from the two simultaneously as they both reacted, Oz's chest flashing back into the seat as far as he could possibly muster with enough desperate force to bruise his back - along with his head - while Gilbert recoiled in immediate embarrassment, shock, and then concern. Quivering, the boy averted his eyes before he harshly scrunched them shut for a brief moment in a painful, strained-looking way before reopening and flooring them in a shamed manner. Oz grit his teeth into what seemed like oblivion, clenching his jaw painstakingly into a fine line of a grimace and looking utterly terrified.

He felt sick.

Oz couldn't bring himself to look into those eyes.

_Oh so golden eye_.

The eye of the man that _defiled_ him... Cold. _Unforgiving_. Piercing. _Loathing._  
Eye that _sees_ all. Eye that _knew_. Eye that _still knows_. Eye that _watched_. Eye that slithered _under his skin_ past every defense he put up and saw him for what he was - _crumbled _his walls and pillaged all he had left.

In the dim light, up close, when his eyes were defocused and hazed from sleep, Gilbert's eyes almost resembled...

He felt nauseous.

"Oh, sorry, Oz!" The man called out apologetically, voice sweet-tempered, sounding somewhat scandalized and meek, and naturally feeling guilty at having frightened the teen. Another shaky breath, this time an exhale of relief, left the teen in response and Oz finally returned back from his ice cold reverie. He shut his eyes briefly before languidly exhaling and reopening again.

Dulcet honey, gold and bright - gentle and unparalleled and the boy realized with a weak relief that the eyes weren't quite the same. He still couldn't shake that resemblance - the likening, and the uncanny similarities he saw in his hazed eyes that he now realized were still there even without optical disruptions. The disgust came accordingly in one pulsating wave that the teen absorbed with self-reproach and repulsion. Oz felt even sicker at the fact that he couldn't seem to shake that connection from his mind - the disturbing resemblance that he couldn't prevent himself from thinking twice of. They truly did look alike - truly did share significant physical similarities and that was the truth of the matter, inevitable to miss: tantamount facial structures, similar expressions...twin golden eyes completely identical in everything but vibrancy. In the dimness of his bleary, sleep-filled eyes, it was Gil and only Gil in front of him but the image wouldn't leave his head.

_Repugnant._

"Ah, Gil, you were so close - you scared me! It's alright. I was saying 'in a minute' but you couldn't take 'no' for an answer." Oz joked - speaking quickly and following it with a hasty chuckle, a shaky chuckle that only Gilbert could notice was slightly off key. And he did, but he knew it would be better not to ask at this given moment.

"Sorry about that... I didn't hear what you said and you kept repeating it so I thought it was important." Gilbert spoke in a sheepish, concerned intone.

"Don't worry about it. Well, we're here now, huh? Long ride. That was some good rest," Oz replied as he released an airy yawn and stretched, earning a satisfactory crack that caused him to sigh in comfort. "I'll wake Alice."

"Alright... "

A slender arm clothed in a long, dark coat reached out toward the girl, lightly taking her shoulders in his hands, at first hesitant but then simply swallowed the restraint and quite figuratively "bit the bullet" to call the brunette's name a couple times along with encouragements to wake - kindly and gently, of course. It took time but a low grumbled whine was emitted from Alice's throat -sure and thoroughly peeved - and suddenly, he knew it wouldn't be a pretty awakening.

The girl woke with a fiery, semi-explosive petulance - not taking kindly to being awakened from her restful slumber; she pouted and grumbled. Lavender hues screened the room frivolously in her numbed eyes, causing the girl to groan as the brightness would disturb the sensitivity. Though, when Alice realized where they were, it all faded completely -as though she completely rubbed it out while rubbing her sore eyes; she swiftly shifted into an excited resolve of calm that left both baffled at her almost bipolar nature - her ability to go from raging to bubbling and giddy. She smiled and tugged on both the male's sleeves insistently, coaxing them in her insistent and innocently haughty, childishly, excited way and rushing the two out of the carriage as quickly as possible. Their walking on the trails was a brisk pace of speed walking that was quite nearly jogging and was far too rushed for any form of conversation until they arrived at the docks - quite the short walk, she made it into. The next ferry would depart in around twenty minutes so they had truly arrived in the nick of time, allowing them to purchase their tickets at the last moment and barely have time to board the boat.

As the island was only a few kilometers offshore, they knew the ride would be very brief so the trio didn't even bother sitting down, instead settling to stand on the upper decks to properly enjoy the cool sea breeze, perhaps even melt into it. The chilly air was excellent to breathe: cool, fresh, and easy to inhale - the type of air that rejuvenates, calms, and clears the head. For that, no speech was necessary in the ride and each mind simply occupied itself alone with the fleeting beauty of the sea passing around them and the warmth, light, and wind tousling their hair. They all easily delved into thought until the ferry finally docked on the pier.

* * *

Anyone who passed would have to admit the coast was utterly beautiful. Greenery; greenery was about as abundant on the island as the sparkling light waters around it yet, it also managed not to be repetitive and dull. It held so much diversity - trees of many shapes, shrubs, and moss all around and wild flowers, roses, and imported-looking tropical flowers in flowerbeds lining the walkways; it held a vivacious quality to it. Despite being populated, it would be improper to describe it as anything but a natural beauty - with its clear air and unclouded, translucent, cerulean skies.

The seaside held a series of docks connecting to a pier along with a small beach below; though, it was predominantly marsh and trees more so than sand - there being only a thin layer of sand and the water obviously became deep very quickly, being a place for ships and water festivities. From atop the upper deck, the pier's ground level was about ten meters below, faded oak wood in direct view and looking somewhat elegant in the weak sunlight of the fairly empty morning; the ferry docked onto a smaller path connecting to the pier, leaving the boat lined up against the side of the slim dock and eventually, tied to a mast. Once it was docked and steadied, passengers were called off and led down to the pier, where they would have the choice to enjoy foods, festivities, theaters, shops, and stands on the pier or head down to the fair. The noirette, brunette, and blond strolled in close proximity of each other in the crowd, cautious to keep close and not lose each other in the steady flock of people in the surrounding area. They roamed with large eyes, all taking in the beautiful scenery with a natural, childlike curiosity and amazement - so large and foreign and it had been so long since they last enjoyed such beauties. The place was bustling and they could only take in so much of it at once.

Thick, evergreen trees could be seen more inland, some decorated with dim color-tinted lanterns that would likely light up and glow bright later in the evening. So green, trees with almost a dark, warm looking citrine shade around the edges from the cascading sun shining behind it. Beautiful; and after a little more walking into the path, they were truly able to appreciate it when they reached the main pier and when it was much less crowded and gave them air and space to actually feel the breezes again. Landing on the week of a very prestigious, decennial fair and carnival, the piers and pathways were much more emptier and clearer than usual, most visitors opting to spend their time down land in the central island and leaving shops mild rather than bustling. There was still activity but it wasn't nearly as crowded as imaginably possible.

The blond rigorously pushed some astray strands from his face against the mild winds disheveling it and kept walking, pressing forward against the sea breeze until the three reached an empty bench below a shady tree.

"So what now? Where first?" A soft inquiry and then the teen is shoving his pesky bangs from his face again with clear irritation - earning a miniscule smile from the eldest of group and causing the boy to internally note that he'd seriously need a haircut.

"Well, it's-"

"Hey, Raven, where's the fair?" The girl cut him off with obvious excitement, gaining a sigh from the said raven -though, the gesture lacked any strong, true irritation. Gilbert explained that the fair was inland and it was a short walk from their current position. With that, they agreed to stop wasting time and instead head over there with haste - all opting to make the most out of the day.

And they did, up until a certain point...

* * *

_The calm before the storm._

* * *

The stroll was brief and the day might as well have been, certainly felt that way as well - at first passing in a blur, so quickly in their joy that the afternoon came rather quickly. The fair was truly a hit - filled with multiple booths, shows, and foods and complete with an exotic act of a full traveling circus, filled with an assortment of animals and acts, which they winded up attending. They were seated in a raised podium in red, velvet cushioned chairs - quite comfortable ones - due to the place being filled to the brim with nobles such as themselves.

It was quite the interesting show, amazing - plus, each was amused by each other's reactions as well as the show. Alice's reactions were utterly over the top, fascination so obvious by her bright eyes and forward leaned frontward posture - in turn, causing Oz to be amused which consequently caused Gilbert to be entertained. The three each walked out of the tent with grins, some high in magnitude and radiant while others brimming with a peaceful lightheartedness.

"Hey, Oz! When are we going to eat?" The brunette inquired innocently as the three strolled down the walkways with utter ease and almost weighed down by nothing - nothing but the arcane things so easily hidden and perhaps the weight of their bags. In one arm lay a paper bag of gourmet sweets and confections adorned in colorful, intricate wraps -perhaps some would be left to the hatter as well if they were feeling generous -while the other held a couple of various random trinkets they had bought in the duration of the day. Admittedly, even the boy's stomach was a bit empty, as they never truly got much nutrition throughout the day - instead opting to munch on small pastries and Alice, large drumsticks of meat; but that wasn't out of the ordinary - the girl was rather notorious for her appetite, after all. As the sun flared in mid-sky, it seemed high time for an afternoon snack or perhaps even a full meal.

"I don't know. What do you guys want?"

"Meat"

"Whatever you guys want."

The replies were simultaneous.

"Meat it is!" The girl beamed.

"I'm sure we can get you some. I wonder if there's a booth around here." Oz wondered aloud and turned to the older. "Do you know where the food stands would be?"

"I believe there's one back from where we came but that's a bit far. I know there are more restaurants past the tent. Don't know if it'd be meat though."

"Well, it wouldn't hurt to look."

"True"

And with that, they began wandering down the trail, making sure to carefully glance at the stand.

_It wouldn't hurt to look._

"I think I see one in front!" The brunette chided.

"It's so crowded. How can you even see anything?"

_Oh how wrong he was._

A short walk and he found out just how wrong.

They winded up walking past the tent after a small bit of continued conversation, which they continued lightly as they walked

Abruptly, Oz frowned.

Across the tent, they'd entered a connecting walkway filled with different stands, as most of the trails did. However, one particular booth caught his eye.

Rows of plush, covered in fur, soft, and cottony. It looked almost innocent, nostalgic. It was filled with stuffed animals.

Stuffed animals and plush toys. Lots of them.

Hanged by the neck with a collar - uniform and hung in straight lines.

_Don't remember._

The collar oddly reminded him of a noose.

_The man whom carried plush._  
_Mortal enemy of anything with stuffing.  
Deprived them._

_Words.  
Words that left him as fragile as glass. _

And _shattered_ him.

So much worse. It only got worse. Those few hours...

_Tore_ him.

The teen froze completely.

He could see from the corner of his eyes, a flash of a glint - a gleam of the scissor's cold metal and he couldn't bear to look any longer; he'd unknowingly turned his face halfway, craning it in a ninety degree angle to the other side. Now the man attending it had lifted a pair of scissors up to one of them to cut the strings holding the little plush to the board, allowing him to lift the little rabbit and yield it to a child...

Paralyzed was his body - muscles strung into place as though an invisible rope bound it, an invisible noose around his neck that he secured himself - or more accurately, an imperceptible noose that had always been there but had never been properly tightened; ethereal bounds intricate and tight and inescapable - but that was okay because he didn't _want_ to escape. His body marginally shook but luckily, Oz repressed the thoughts quickly enough not to lose his calm.

The rest of the evening was a sickening, monotonous blur.

* * *

They winded up on the carriage later that night.

Throughout the carriage ride, emerald eyes couldn't help but waver in Gilbert's direction at random intervals, in a weak attempt for the boy to reassure himself. To test those hues like warm water, like molten gold, allowing a quick dip to feel the temperature - to search his orbs for what made them different from the gold of the other's.

Nothing.

Oz didn't think it could get any worse until he saw a Nightray carriage leaving the Rainsworth mansion.

_So suffocating._

He heard later that the Nightrays visited the estate during the day for business matters; he even heard that all the children came as well, adopted included.

He went straight to his room. Locked - he didn't let anyone stay with him that night.

* * *

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_[AN: I apologize for the massive lag. While on that note, I don't know when I'll be able to update again. School just started and I'm taking 4 AP courses... Any American student knows that I've pretty much dug my own grave - or signed a Faustian contract selling my soul, life, and free time to a hell-load of work. (*sobs*) Also, to be honest, I haven't been satisfied or feeling confident with anything I've been writing lately... I guess it's a combination of being stressed and frustrated and ehh. This was a terribly rushed chapter and I deeply apologize about that. From this day forth, I think I'll be trying to do shorter chapters so I can update quicker - so I don't make people wait this long and wind up disappointing._

_Thank you for the support.]_

* * *

_[Constructive criticism is always very much welcome.]_


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